Keep On Truckin' Pam
by Red Witch
Summary: To make some extra money, Pam turns to truck driving.


**Pam drove off with the disclaimer telling you that I don't own any Archer characters. Just more madness from my tiny little brain. **

**Keep On Truckin' Pam**

"Ms. Tunt, I don't think you realize the importance of this," Mr. Ulysses George Lee, current Chairman of the Board of the Tunt Corporation pleaded to Cheryl.

"_Ugghh,"_ Cheryl grumbled as she sat on the large boardroom table and powdered her nose.

"Ever since the disaster that was Tunt Motors which was quite frankly…" Mr. Lee sighed. "A long shot in the first place…"

"_Long shot?"_ Cheryl scoffed. "Those pieces of shit you called cars exploded in a ball of fire if you went over 80. I'm not saying it didn't have it's appeal…"

"Since that part of Tunt Corporation was closed down **permanently**," Mr. Lee pressed on. "We've had to heavily rely on other departments."

"Since I own pretty much **everything,**" Cheryl waved. "Not a big freaking deal!"

"Not **everything**," Mr. Lee told her.

"Well almost everything," Cheryl shrugged. "I keep hearing rumors about the Brooklyn Bridge being for sale but I'm not so sure I want that."

"Ms. Tunt, I don't think you realize what's going on with the economy," Mr. Lee went on.

"Uh yeah **I do**!" Cheryl said. "I see stores going into bankruptcy at the mall every other week!"

"And we could end up _joining them_!" Mr. Lee snapped.

"I don't think **that's **gonna happen," Cheryl scoffed. "I own trains!"

"Not **all** of them," Mr. Lee told her.

"I own an airline," Cheryl went on as she finished powdering her nose.

"That never really got off the ground," Mr. Lee told her.

"So, I **don't** own an airline?" Cheryl asked.

"You own some planes but not an airline," Mr. Lee explained.

"Same difference," Cheryl waved as she put her makeup away.

"Not really, no," Mr. Lee said.

"I own an amusement park," Cheryl shrugged.

"No," Mr. Lee sighed. "You **think** everything you own is an amusement park. Which explains a lot of the damage you and your associates cause."

"Well I own like a ton of hotels and buildings in every freaking state," Cheryl waved.

"Not in Montana, Wisconsin, Rhode Island or Maine," Mr. Lee said.

"Hey 46 out of 50 states is still pretty damn impressive!" Cheryl snapped. "The point is I own a shit load of stuff. And I'm rich so…I don't really give a damn."

"You **should**," Mr. Lee said. "The problem is that your businesses have expenses. Add to that your expenses which grow every day…"

Cheryl looked at him. "You know, you're more boring than Lana. I didn't think it was possible but you are way more boring than **Lana!"**

"Ms. Tunt…"

"I know," Cheryl cut him off. "It's always nag, nag, nag…environment crap, nag, self-denial garbage, nag, baby, nag, baby, blah, blah, blah…Me! Me! Me! Poor Lana! Blah, blah! But at least she throws in an occasional punch or a detailed description of how her latest love affair failed. You…Nothing. You are so **depressing**!"

"Do you know **why** I'm depressing?" Mr. Lee shouted.

"I'm guessing some of it has to do with your sex life," Cheryl said. "Or lack of it."

"It's because I am trying to hold control of a business run by an out of control drugged up drunken **ditz!"** Mr. Lee shouted. "Who for some reason prefers to pretend to be a secretary rather than chairman of the board at her own damn company!"

"They give me groovy bears," Cheryl shrugged.

"I'm not even going to…" Mr. Lee sighed. "Let me explain the problem **one more** **time**…"

"You'd better," Cheryl admitted. "I wasn't listening before."

Mr. Lee took a breath. "All right, as you know we own the Tuntmore Appliances Company. You are aware of **that **right?"

"Well Tunt is in the _name,_" Cheryl rolled her eyes. "Duh! Even **I** know that! Get to the point! If you have one."

"Things have not gone well for that division," Mr. Lee sighed. "Due to…Certain incidents."

"You mean like the washing machines that caught on fire last year?" Cheryl asked.

"That is one incident, yes," Mr. Lee sighed.

"And those _other_ washing machines that had mold in them?" Cheryl asked.

"That is another incident yes," Mr. Lee sighed.

"And those dishwashers that **exploded**?" Cheryl asked. "While they were still in the store?"

"Yes," Mr. Lee admitted.

"And that new refrigerator they designed that just kept on shooting ice?" Cheryl asked again. "Whether you wanted it or not?"

"Yes," Mr. Lee coughed.

Cheryl went on. "That one couple that went away for the weekend and their refrigerator made so much ice half their kitchen was filled up and their cat froze?"

"Yes," Mr. Lee sighed.

"The one that was on the news?" Cheryl added. "And we got all those angry letters from Consumer Reports, the Better Business Bureau and PETA?"

"Yes," Mr. Lee sighed again.

"And that **brilliant** idea some idiot had for an appliance _vending machine_?" Cheryl snapped. "Because we all remember how well **that **turned out!"

FLASHBACK!

"Okay sir," A well dressed salesman was talking to a customer in a store. "If you want to pick out your new washing machine, all you have to is put in your credit card. Then punch the numbers of the one you want."

"Oh…" The customer looked at the large vending machine in front of him. It was so large it reached the ceiling. "All right then."

He did so. And punched in some numbers. "E. 5."

"Excellent choice sir," The salesman nodded. Then he noticed something and moved backwards. "Uh sir? You might want to move back a little."

"Why?" The customer asked.

WHAM!

SPLAT!

A washing machine fell right on top of the customer splatting him against the floor in a very messy way.

"Cleanup on Aisle 9!" The salesman shouted. **"Again!"**

FOOOM!

The washing machine caught on fire. "And don't forget the damn fire extinguisher!" The salesman sighed.

FLASHFORWARD!

"I admit in hindsight that was an **extremely bad idea**," Mr. Lee winced. "Again, I had no knowledge of **that **until…You know? The lawsuits. And the calls from the fire department."

"None of those were **my fault!"** Cheryl snapped.

"I know **those** weren't," Mr. Lee sighed.

"I know you like to blame me for everything," Cheryl snapped. "But it's not always **me!**"

"I know those particular incidences were not **your fault**," Mr. Lee said. "We fired those who were. Which leads us to this particular problem. Tuntmore Appliances is teetering on the edge of bankruptcy."

"Gee I wonder **why**?" Cheryl snapped.

"The problem is," Mr. Lee sighed. "We finally managed to make some non-exploding, non-fire catching, non-life-threatening appliances at our research facility here in Los Angeles. They need to be transported to our manufacturing and distribution center in Grover's Point in Oregon."

"So? Just put them on a train or something," Cheryl waved. "What's the problem?"

"The problem is that there is no train station at Grover's Point," Mr. Lee said.

"Well then put them on a plane!" Cheryl snapped.

"There is no airfield either I'm afraid," Mr. Lee sighed.

"No trains or airfields near a distribution center?" Cheryl snapped. "Who was the idiot that made **that call** to put a facility there?"

"Your father," Mr. Lee coughed. "To be fair he thought he was getting a deal."

"Then use **trucks**!" Cheryl snapped. "You do have trucks, right?"

"Yes, we do," Mr. Lee said.

"And there are **roads** from here to wherever this dumb place is right?" Cheryl snapped.

"Grover's Point. And yes, there are," Mr. Lee nodded.

"Then what the hell is the **problem** here?" Cheryl snapped. "I'm missing quality groovy bear time!"

"The problem is that we don't have any drivers to drive the trucks," Mr. Lee explained.

"What do you mean there are no drivers?" Cheryl snapped.

"Our truck drivers are currently on strike," Mr. Lee coughed.

"Why?" Cheryl snapped.

"For starters they want more money and a decrease in unsafe working conditions," Mr. Lee said.

FLASHBACK!

A Tuntmore truck was driving on the highway. Suddenly there was an explosion in the back and the truck caught on fire. Then drove off a cliff in a blaze of fire.

FLASHFORWARD!

"To be fair they have a point on that second one," Mr. Lee sighed.

"So, hire some scabs!" Cheryl snapped.

"We would but we can't get any," Mr. Lee sighed. "There is a real shortage of qualified truck drivers. Not to mention word has gotten out about the exploding appliances in the trucks so…"

"UGGGH!" Cheryl got out her phone. "I have to think of **everything**! I hate working with stupid people!"

"What are you doing?" Mr. Lee asked.

"I'm going to solve your stupid problem because you're too stupid to solve it **yourself!"** Cheryl snapped. "Even that's what I **pay** you for!"

"How are you going to solve it?" Mr. Lee asked.

"By getting you a truck driver! DUH!" Cheryl snapped. "Who do I look like? Ms. Plot Exposition?"

"Wait, **you're** getting a truck driver? Who?" Mr. Lee asked.

Later that afternoon…

"_**YOU?!"**_ Mr. Lee shouted when he saw who was in the truck.

"Damn straight," Pam grinned as she sat at the wheel of the 18-wheeler. She had her Poovey Farms truck driving hat, hair in a ponytail and her usual driving outfit.

"_HER?"_ Mr. Lee shouted. "She can't drive a truck!"

"Yes, I can dipshit," Pam snapped. "I got my CDL and everything!"

"What?" Mr. Lee snapped.

"Commercial driver's license," Pam explained.

"I know what it **means!**" Mr. Lee snapped. "I mean how the hell did **you **get one?"

"Please, its not that hard," Pam snorted. "I've been driving tractors and trucks since I was a kid on the farm. This is nothing!"

"She really is a good driver," Cheryl nodded.

"She wasn't that good when she drove me in that taxi from Hell!" Mr. Lee snapped.

"That GPS was a little faulty," Pam admitted.

"YOU DROVE ME INTO THE GRAND CANYON!" Mr. Lee snapped. "Where you crashed!"

"Correction," Pam told him. "I drove **past **the Grand Canyon. I drove **into **a tree next to it because of that squirrel in the road. There's a difference."

"We're doomed," Mr. Lee groaned.

"Relax," Pam waved. "This is already my fourth time hauling commercial goods. And I've only been professionally trucking for two weeks!"

"She already transported some things for me a couple of times," Cheryl said.

"Like **what?**" Mr. Lee shouted.

"Uhh…" Pam paused.

FLASHBACK!

"Okay Cheryl!" Pam got out of a truck labeled GAZEBO WORLD. "I got your gazebos for you."

Ray and Krieger were there as well. "What are you planning on doing with five gazebos anyway?" Ray asked.

FLASHFORWARD TO TWENTY MINUTES LATER…

"BURN! BURN! BURN!" Cheryl cackled as the five gazebos burned on the lawn.

"Stupid question," Ray sighed.

"Man, that girl really hates gazebos," Pam said.

"That reminds me," Cheryl turned to Pam. "Pam I want to hire you to transport some other shit for later in the week."

"What?" Pam asked.

FLASHBACK!

"Okay Cheryl," Pam had just pulled a small truck into the Figgis Agency garage. "I got your shipment right here."

The truck was labeled ROBIN'S RUBBER CEMENT GLUE. "YAAY!" Cheryl cheered as she jumped up and down.

FLASHFORWARD!

"Various things. The point is, I've already transported Cheryl's shit twice," Pam grinned.

"What was **the third time**?" Mr. Lee asked.

"I was hired to transport some bees to some almond orchards," Pam explained.

"What?" Mr. Lee asked.

"It's true," Cyril walked up to them. "Krieger rented out some bees to this almond orchard in Sacramento. Apparently, it's a thing. Renting out bees for almond orchards."

"What are you doing **here?**" Mr. Lee looked at Cyril.

"How do you think I got here?" Pam rolled her eyes. "Just flapped my arms and flew?"

"Chaperoning mostly," Cyril sighed. "I'm here to get the check from Cheryl for our services."

"Check? _What check?"_ Mr. Lee shouted.

"The check for twenty-five grand for me driving this rig," Pam told him.

"Right here!" Cheryl took out a check and waved it.

"WHAT?" Mr. Lee shouted as Cheryl gave Cyril the check. "You're giving him twenty-five thousand dollars? To drive a damn truck!?'

"Hey! You wanted a truck driver!" Cheryl snapped as she went to get into the truck. "I got you a truck driver! Stop whining!"

"Where are **you** going?" Mr. Lee shouted.

"Uh to wherever this shipment is supposed to go! Duh!" Cheryl said as she got in. "I wanna go for a truck ride!"

"She's gonna be the BJ to my Bear!" Pam grinned.

"Let's burn rubber!" Cheryl grinned.

"Ten four good buddy!" Pam honked the horn. She laughed as she peeled out.

"AAAH!" Mr. Lee gasped as the truck sped out, nearly covering him with dust and gravel. "She can't…That woman is a **maniac**!"

"Which one?" Cyril asked.

"Take your pick!" Mr. Lee snapped. "Dear God I can't trust a job this important to those two!"

"I'll drive you for a hundred dollars," Cyril told him. "We can follow those two."

"Under the circumstances I feel I have no choice," Mr. Lee sighed. "You can't be any worse than Poovey! Deal! Do I have to pay in advance?"

"It's easier for everyone if you do," Cyril admitted. "And really easy if you paid cash."

"Of course," Mr. Lee groaned.

Soon Pam and Cheryl were riding along on the highway. _"East bound and down!"_ Both Pam and Cheryl were singing along to the radio.

"Hang on," Cheryl blinked. "I feel like I've heard this song before."

"Uh yeah, theme from Smokey and the Bandit," Pam said.

"No, I mean the woman singing this song **on the radio!"** Cheryl pointed. "She sounds so familiar!"

The song ended. "That was East Bound and Down sung by the one and only Cherlene!" A male announcer spoke up. "I wonder what happened to her? Did those arson charges stick or what?"

"I've **heard** that name before," Cheryl blinked. "Where have I heard that name before?"

"Do you really want to know?" Pam sighed. "Or do you just want to have some groovy bears and forget the whole thing?"

"Groovy bears!" Cheryl said cheerfully.

"Glove compartment," Pam pointed.

"YAY!" Cheryl cheered as she took them out and scarfed them down. "Ooh! Tingly! What were we talking about again?"

"Nothing important," Pam sighed.

"Oh good," Cheryl nodded.

Meanwhile behind the truck…

"This is good," Cyril said as he drove his car. "They haven't run anybody off the road or gotten pulled over by the cops. This is good."

Mr. Lee sat in the passenger seat up front. "You realize they've only been driving for fifteen minutes?"

"Still good," Cyril said. "About ten more minutes and this might be a record for them."

"Oh God," Mr. Lee groaned.

"Cheer up," Cyril said. "Look at the bright side."

"Which is?"

Cyril's grin turned darker. "Their engine could overheat and combust. And they can drive off a cliff in a fiery blaze. Taking them to hell and out of my life **forever!** HA HA HA HA! And we can serve bearclaws at the funeral repast. He, he…"

Mr. Lee sat there with a horrified look on his face. "Is there anybody **sane **at your agency?" He shouted.

"Define sane," Cyril asked.

Meanwhile back in the truck…

"_We got a great big convoy!"_ Pam and Cheryl sang. _"Rocking into the night! We got a great big convoy! Ain't she a beautiful sight?" _

"I certainly am!" Cheryl laughed.

"This is the life!" Pam said. "Driving on the open road. Seeing America!"

"Yeah," Cheryl looked around. "So, America is just a lot of **nothing**? Because all I see is just highway and desert."

"Well that's just **this part**," Pam said. "But yeah a lot of it looks like this. Except for the part where it's just highway and trees."

"That's **it?"** Cheryl asked.

"Occasionally you drive in cities and get stuck in traffic," Pam added.

"Well that's just boring," Cheryl groaned. "No wonder we can't get any truckers. This job sucks."

"I would have thought just sitting around for hours and doing nothing would appeal to you?" Pam asked.

"Yeah but I like bathroom breaks too!" Cheryl whined.

"I could take a piss," Pam said. "But there's no rest stops near here."

"Wait, isn't there like a mall nearby?" Cheryl asked.

"There isn't any…" Pam did a double take. "Well what do you know? There is! Let's take a pit stop!"

"Yay!" Cheryl cheered. "Now **this** is the part of America I want to see! The **malls!"**

Back in the car…

"They're turning off the road," Cyril realized.

"Where the devil are they **going?**" Mr. Lee asked.

"I have no idea," Cyril sighed. "I never have any idea!"

"That I believe!" Mr. Lee groaned.

About ten minutes later…

"Where the hell **are they?"** Mr. Lee looked around as he and Cyril entered the mall. "And why are they in a **mall?**"

"Well their truck is parked outside," Cyril sighed. "So I'm assuming either Pam or both of them had to take a bathroom break. And knowing Pam she'd probably take a lunch break. Let's check the food court."

"I don't believe this!" Mr. Lee groaned.

"I do," Cyril sighed as they made their way to the food court.

"I don't see them anywhere," Mr. Lee looked around.

"They're probably still in the restroom," Cyril said. "Pam does tend to spend a lot of time in there. All we can do is just wait them out."

"Is that your plan?" Mr. Lee snapped. "Just stand here and **wait** for them?"

"No," Cyril looked around. "I'm going to get one of those almond crusted pretzels. You want one?"

"No, I don't want a damn pretzel!" Mr. Lee snapped. "What I want is for those two lunatics to drive the truck!"

"What are you going to do?" Cyril sighed. "Go into the bathroom yourself? Word of warning, if Pam's in there…You might not want to be. I mean the smell alone…"

"Oh…Right…" Mr. Lee stopped. "It is a women's restroom."

"Yeah and those two technically qualify," Cyril rolled his eyes. "Trust me it's best to wait out here. I'm gonna go get a pretzel. It's going to be a long wait."

"God, I hate my job," Mr. Lee groaned.

"Join the club," Cyril said as he went to get a pretzel.

Forty-five minutes later…

"I have to admit," Mr. Lee sighed as he looked at his pretzel. "These pretzels aren't half bad."

"Right?" Cyril said as he ate something else.

"What are those?" Mr. Lee asked.

"Donut fries," Cyril showed him. "Want one?"

"What is a donut fry?" Mr. Lee asked.

"It's a donut in the shape of a French Fry," Cyril said. "They're not bad."

"This is a _thing_?" Mr. Lee asked. "Good lord, what they won't think of next?"

"Try one," Cyril gave him a donut fry.

"Why not?" Mr. Lee tasted one. "Not bad."

"It's good right?" Cyril said.

"It did taste better than I thought it would," Mr. Lee admitted. "Huh. Now when my wife asks me what I did when she comes back, I can tell her I tried a donut fry. And that is actually a thing. It will be a nice conversation starter."

"Your wife is on a trip?" Cyril asked. "To where?"

"I have no idea," Mr. Lee sighed. "We're at the point in our marriage where absence actually makes it work. Between my work, her charities and her constantly sick relatives…The last forty-five years have just flown by."

"When is she coming back?" Cyril asked.

"At the end of the month," Mr. Lee said. "She always comes back at the end of the month. That's when the allowance I give her runs out. Speaking of which where the hell are those two? Women's rooms don't have a back door. At least from what I've heard."

"Yeah, even Pam should be done by now," Cyril thought. "Unless…"

He went to a service desk nearby. "Excuse me, are there any other restaurants in this mall?" He asked the attendant.

"Well there used to be a Brannigan's but that went out," The male attendant said. "However there still is the Lordstrom's Café."

"The what?" Mr. Lee asked.

"Lordstrom's Café," The male attendant explained. "It's a real fancy place. Pretty expensive. Second floor. Right across from the bathrooms."

"You don't think…?" Mr. Lee gasped.

"Does Cheryl have a credit card there?" Cyril asked. "Because if she does…"

"Let's go!" Mr. Lee said as they left.

A few seconds later they came back. "Which direction is Lordstrom's?" Cyril asked.

"Go down that hall and take a right," The attendant said.

"Thank you!" Cyril said as they left.

The attendant paused. "Those are the first people that have talked to me all day. Screw it. I'm going to get some donut fries."

Less than fifteen minutes later…

"What the hell are you doing here?" Mr. Lee shouted at Pam and Cheryl.

They were sitting at a fancy table in the café with a lot of food in front of them. "Having this new thing called **lunch?**" Pam looked at him.

"Duh!" Cheryl scoffed.

"You're supposed to be driving the truck," Cyril said. "We've been looking for you for nearly an hour by the food court next to where the donut fries are."

"This mall has _donut fries_?" Pam asked.

"That's not the point," Mr. Lee snapped. "The point is that you are supposed to be delivering your cargo!"

"And we will," Cheryl waved. "Keep your girdle on, Ugly!"

"It's a back-support brace!" Mr. Lee snapped. "And I need you to get back into the truck this minute and **get driving**!"

"What are we hourly?" Pam asked. "Wait, _**are**_ we hourly?"

"NO!" Mr. Lee snapped.

"Then what the shit are **you** complaining about?" Pam snapped.

"Yeah!" Cheryl said. "As long as she delivers the goods to the warehouse what do you care if we take a little break?"

"I CARE VERY DEEPLY!" Mr. Lee shouted. "I hired you to do a job and you will do it!"

"Phrasing!" Cheryl said.

"What?" Mr. Lee did a double take. "Never mind. Just get back to the truck and drive!"

"Hang on Ugly!" Pam snapped. "**Cheryl's** the boss! Not **you!"**

"Yeah!" Cheryl snapped.

"And if she wants to have a nice lunch who the hell are you to say no?" Pam added.

"Fine she can stay here," Mr. Lee snapped. "You go!"

"No! **You go!"** Cheryl snapped. "**I am** the one giving the orders! Speaking of which! Waitress, I'll have a chocolate eclair for dessert!"

"Make that three!" Pam said.

"But…but…" Mr. Lee protested.

"No buts **you ass!"** Cheryl snapped. "Now let us enjoy our lunch in peace or you're **fired!"**

Mr. Lee moved away. "One of these days…One of these days…" He grumbled under his breath.

"Welcome to my personal Hell," Cyril told him. "Although I admit without Archer it's much more tolerable."

"What crawled up his ass and **died?**" Pam asked Cheryl.

"Ugh, don't get me started," Cheryl waved her hand.

Sometime later…

"Well at least they're on the road again," Cyril sighed as he drove the car. "They finally started."

"After taking their sweet time!" Mr. Lee snapped. He was in the passenger's seat again.

"Trust me," Cyril told him. "This is the most work those two have done in weeks!"

"I believe it!" Mr. Lee groaned. "I swear the next headhunter that contacts me for a job I will take it! No amount of money is worth this abuse!"

"Really?" Cyril asked. "I could go for a new job myself. Preferably as far away from the people I work with as possible. I mean you think the Gruesome Twosome are bad, but they're lightweights compared to some of the nutjobs I work with."

"I find that hard to believe."

"Oh _really?"_ Cyril asked. "Let me tell you about Sterling Archer and Lana Kane…"

Meanwhile back in the truck…

"Seriously," Pam said as she drove. "What the hell is Ugly's problem?"

"He's such a bitch," Cheryl grumbled as she took a drink from a bottle of scotch.

"He **is!**" Pam said. "I didn't want to say anything but…"

"He just goes on and on and on and on…" Cheryl moaned. "Think Cyril only more boring."

"I didn't think that was possible," Pam said as she took the bottle and a swig before handing it back to Cheryl.

"Believe it," Cheryl said. "At least Cyril has a fun freak out every now and then and some good sex. But Ugly…Ugh! No wonder his wife leaves him every other week. I would too if I was married to that douche."

"Then why does she come back?" Pam asked.

"Because he gives her a shitload of cash every month," Cheryl scoffed. "Joke's on him. She's been secretly embezzling funds from his accounts every chance she gets. And those sick relatives she says she's visiting…They all happen to be in the same resort in the Bahamas."

"How do you know that?" Pam asked.

Cheryl took a swig. "She had a fling with my father for a couple of years. Nothing serious. They just both wanted to get back at Ugly for some reason. My father ended up paying her a huge crapload so that she wouldn't blab to her husband. She wanted to tell Ugly so he'd get all mad and maybe divorce her. But my father convinced her to take a couple million instead."

"Really?" Pam asked.

"Father didn't want to lose Ugly because he was making a ton of cash for the company," Cheryl explained. "And he was slightly more trustworthy than everyone else. One day I'm gonna tell Ugly. When it's really inconvenient for him."

"You're just keeping him around to torture him, aren't you?" Pam asked.

"You know me so well," Cheryl grinned. "Plus, he really does know his business stuff and makes money for me. So, you know? Might as well keep him until I don't need him anymore."

"Like what Ms. Archer does with Cyril and the rest of us?" Pam asked.

"Exactly," Cheryl nodded. "Only difference is that I can get better people to work for me than Ms. Archer."

"Hey I just noticed that the GPS says your warehouse is closer if we take a shortcut," Pam said.

"But there's no road there," Cheryl said.

"Who needs a road?" Pam grinned. "Hang on."

Meanwhile back in the car...

"Let me see if I get this straight," Mr. Lee remarked. "After all the fuss Lana made about you cheating on her, she goes behind your back and steals the sperm of her ex-boyfriend and impregnates herself with it? That's **insane**! And speaking as someone who has worked for the Tunt family for decades, that's a high bar to pass!"

"It gets worse," Cyril went on. "It's not bad enough that Lana steals Archer's sperm like some kind of deranged psychopath! Oh no! She ends up running back to that asshole! Who ends up not only running off to have sex with Veronica Deane, but ratting Lana out to the cops as a joke! Even I wouldn't do that! Who does that? Who runs back to a lying cheating asshole, **knowing **he's a lying cheating asshole? I tell you! WOMEN!"

"Well at least you didn't end up marrying her and she had an affair with your boss," Mr. Lee said. "AKA Cheryl's father."

"_Seriously?"_ Cyril gasped. "That must have been horrible."

"Not really," Mr. Lee shrugged. "At the time I was having an affair with my wife's sister. She's the one who told me about the whole affair. And my wife's secret trips to the Bahamas. Which honestly was not that much of a secret. I kind of figured it out when she charged a lot of room service items to my credit card. During all those times she was supposedly in Baltimore visiting her sick Aunt Bernice."

"Does she have an Aunt Bernice?"

"If she did, she probably died when she first contacted the incurable fatal illness **thirty years ago,"** Mr. Lee said.

"You're embezzling money from the company, aren't you?" Cyril realized.

"I would never do such a dishonest thing," Mr. Lee sniffed. "However, I have transferred certain funds from non-vital accounts to vital accounts."

"And an example of a vital account would be…?"

"A secret luxury condo in Belize," Mr. Lee grinned. "Which by the way is also funded by some of the money I have been taking from my wife's secret account which she thinks I don't know about! Again, her sister told me about that. She's married to my wife's banker so…"

"Nice," Cyril said. "I've been looking at the market in the Cayman Islands myself."

"You're embezzling money as well, aren't you?" Mr. Lee asked.

"I prefer to think of it as reparations," Cyril paused. "For all the abuse those maniacs have given me for **years**!"

"You know Mr. Figgis," Mr. Lee said. "I admit I had some reservations about you. Well a lot of them. But now I see that you're a man I can do business with."

"That's because we have a lot in common," Cyril said. "Oh God what are they doing **now**?"

"They're going off the road!" Cyril shouted.

"They're not supposed to do that!" Mr. Lee shouted.

"I know!" Cyril snapped. "Don't tell me! Tell **them!"**

"I intend to!" Mr. Lee snapped. "Follow them!"

"Are you out of **your mind**?" Cyril snapped. "Does this car look like an off roader to you? It's more like a **get off the road** car! There's no way I'm driving off of the road! Besides for all we know, that could be part of their plan!"

"Plan?" Mr. Lee snapped as Cyril stopped the car on the side of the road. "_What plan?"_

"The plan to eventually **kill me!"** Cyril snapped. "Well you too. For all we know it could be a two for one thing!"

"What?" Mr. Lee shouted.

"They think I don't know! Oh, **I know** all right!" Cyril snapped. "See they know that we're following them. Why not go off the road? That means we will follow them! That's the **trap**!"

"Have you lost your…?" Mr. Lee paused. "Stupid question."

"They think I don't see it but **I do!"** Cyril had a wild look in his eyes.

"I think you should seriously consider seeing a psychiatrist," Mr. Lee was getting nervous.

"Their plan is…" Cyril said. "We follow them. Our car breaks down in the middle of nowhere stranding us! Or we somehow end up in a ditch or a ravine or something. And then we starve to death. No wait, die of thirst baking in the sun. While those two alcoholic bitches laugh at us!"

"Mr. Figgis…"

"They're going to **laugh at us** I tell you!" Cyril snapped. "Well the joke is **on them!** Because Cyril Figgis sees through their plan! I'm not falling for it! Not going to fall for it!"

"You really think that those two are planning for us to follow them so we'd get stranded in the desert and die?" Mr. Lee shouted.

"Well maybe not Pam," Cyril said. "But Cheryl? Yeah! Definitely!"

Mr. Lee realized. "Oh, dear God she **would** do that…"

"I'm not falling for that!" Cyril snapped. "I'm **not **going to get stuck in a desert and almost die! NOT AGAIN!"

"Where are we **going**?" Mr. Lee said as Cyril drove off.

"To the warehouse!" Cyril snapped. "We'll wait for them there! That will outsmart them! If **Archer** couldn't get me killed in a desert, those two idiots don't have a chance! HA!"

"I am surrounded by crazy people…" Mr. Lee realized.

Sometime later…

"Well we're here at the warehouse," Mr. Lee grumbled as he stood by the building. "But they're not!"

"Yeah but we're **not** stuck in the desert, dead in a ditch!" Cyril told him as he took a drink from a flask. "Plan thwarted bitches! You have to get up pretty early to outsmart Cyril Figgis!"

"I would think noon would be a good time," Mr. Lee grumbled to himself.

"What did you say?" Cyril asked.

"I said it's taking too much time," Mr. Lee covered. "And are you drinking _whisky_?"

"No, scotch," Cyril said. "It's prime Glengoolie Blue. Want some?"

"No, thank you," Mr. Lee groaned. "Where did you get Glengoolie Blue?"

"Our office has it delivered at least once a month," Cyril said. "The **one thing** Archer actually did for office productivity. If you don't count him being in a coma. I mean I do but other people don't for some reason."

A truck horn was honking. "Here they come!" Cyril pointed.

"Finally," Mr. Lee groaned.

The battered truck pulled up. Well half of it. "Hey! We made it!" Pam whooped as she got out. "I thought we'd never get out of that canyon."

"I know," Cheryl groaned as she got out. "Oh Cyril. Ugly. You're here. Damn."

"I told you even Cyril isn't stupid enough to follow us into the desert!" Pam said to Cheryl.

"Rats!" Cheryl snapped her fingers. "I was so hoping they'd follow us. And then their car breaks down. And they die in a ditch somewhere."

Mr. Lee looked at Cyril with a horrified expression. "You're **welcome**!" Cyril told him.

Mr. Lee then noticed something. "Where's the **rest of the truck**? The cargo? Where the hell are the appliances that you were supposed to deliver?"

"Funny story…" Pam said. "We kind of had to dump them."

"WHAT?" Mr. Lee shouted.

"Well we kind of got stuck in this ditch for a bit," Pam explained. "And then we got lost. And it turns out those appliances don't do well in extreme heat…"

"They caught on fire," Cheryl giggled.

"Good thing I managed to unhook the trailer before it exploded," Pam said. "You should have seen that puppy burn!"

"YOU IDIOTS!" Mr. Lee shouted. "That never would have happened if you just stayed on the road like you were supposed to!"

"You don't know that," Pam said.

"YES, I DO!" Mr. Lee shouted. "AND NOW WE'RE RUINED BECAUSE OF YOUR STUPIDITY! WHAT ARE WE GOING TO DO WITH AN EMPTY WAREHOUSE?"

"Don't worry," Cheryl waved. "I figured it out. We'll just go to Plan F."

"Plan **F?**" Mr. Lee was confused. "Don't you mean Plan B?"

"No, I mean Plan F," Cheryl said. "Cyril…"

"I have the forms all ready," Cyril took them out.

"Ready for what?" Mr. Lee snapped. "What is Plan F?"

A short time later…

"Oh…" Mr. Lee stood there as the warehouse burned down. "**That's** Plan F."

"Faulty wiring," Cyril said calmly. "Happens all the time. He was holding a clipboard and some papers.

"I would have thought you'd **know** this by now," Pam said as they watched. "I mean you've been working for her for _how long_?"

"FIRE! FIRE! FIRE! YAAAAAAAAAAYYY!" Cheryl jumped up and down happily.

"We figured this out like the first few weeks she hired us," Pam said. "Just saying."

"Just need your signature right here for the insurance," Cyril pointed. Mr. Lee sighed. "Thank you. And this is for our fee."

"Fee?" Mr. Lee snapped.

"Twenty-five grand to investigate the fire," Pam said. "That's our flat fee to say Cheryl didn't start the fires she caused."

"It's the most stable source of income our office has," Cyril sighed.

"You really want **her** in _your office_ **all day**?" Pam pointed.

"BURN! BURN! BURN! HA HA HA!" Cheryl danced with glee.

"I do not," Mr. Lee blinked. "Oh, **that's** why she…Okay. I get what you people do now." He signed the papers.

"WHOO HOO!" Cheryl laughed as the fire burned.

"How much would you charge to ensure that Ms. Tunt **doesn't **come back to my office for at least three months?" Mr. Lee asked.

"Make me an offer," Cyril said.


End file.
